Reflection
by Kurtbert
Summary: A song-fic that gets into Kurt's head during Preggers. Kurt needs to sing this song sometime! One-shot


A/N- This is another Burt & Kurt one-shot from Preggers. I made this to get inside of Kurt's head during that episode because there must've been so much going through it. I switch names to emphasize Kurt feeling small and vulnerable like a child, so I switch from Dad to Daddy. Sorry if that upsets anyone. Enjoy!

Disclaimer-Kurt still doesn't rule the world? I still don't own Glee yet.

Song: Reflection (Mulan soundtrack version)

_Who is that girl I see, staring straight back at me, why doesn't my reflection show who I am inside._

_ Who am I? Who is this? _It looks like me, but it can't be. This boy is wearing a hideous red football uniform in a smelly, dirty, locker room surrounded by sweaty boys in various stages of undress. _Where is Kurt Hummel? Where am I?_

The jocks look at me like I have a third head because I am staring in the mirror over the sinks for far too long, but they have no idea why. I am currently trying to take in who I am, no, who I have to be now. I have to pretend to be one of them, a bone-headed jock. Although I am clearly in my own class of intelligence here, I feel stupid. _What is Kurt Hummel doing in this locker room, preparing for a game? Why am I here?_

The answer seems simple. Dad. He likes this person, he is proud of this stranger that looks like his son. I know I could've quit and made up another lie to get out of the first, but I willingly chose not to. I want to make him proud. I'm not like every other boy, but all boys somewhere, although it may be buried deep inside, want to make their father proud: including me. _Why does he have to be proud of a stranger? Why can't he be proud of me?_

_Who is that girl I see, staring straight back at me, why doesn't my reflection show who I am inside._

I'm in my room, in front of my mirror, singing one of my favorite songs. When I was little, before my mother died, we would watch _Mulan_ every Thursday, and I would sing along to this song in a hairbrush. Mom would be so happy and proud; she'd always hug me after and say how special I was and that she loved me. My dad would smile a bit and point out that I needed to say boy instead of girl. I did, in front of dad that is. _Why can't I express myself through my music? Why can't I be me?_

Well, my dad doesn't know. The only person I've ever come out to is Mercedes. Although I was sure she'd accept who I am, I was still nervous and uncomfortable. How will my dad react? I really should tell him. _But what if he hates me? What if he stops loving me?_

I don't want to continue football, but I can't quit without a reason. I think my dad's suspicious. Should I tell him? My mom would want me to; and I want to, too, but I'm just nervous about what he'll think. I have to tell him. Tonight. Having no secrets is better, right?_ How will I do this? How will I reveal this secret to him?_

I ponder this as I stop singing and start my skin care. I am wiping my eyes from my aerosol moisturizer when I see a figure in my mirror. My dad is tentatively approaching, obviously feeling awkward about walking in on his "straight" son pampering up. He nods awkwardly, looking away, and clears his throat. I'm nervous. It's coming so fast. I can't think of anything to say, so I settle on,"Night time skin care is a big part of my post-game ritual." "I don't know what to say about that." That's not a good sign._ Can I do this? Can I possibly ruin my relationship with my only parent?_

"I was really proud of you tonight, Kurt," he says. It hurts a little to know that he wasn't proud of _me_, but of this stranger that won a high school football game. I took the compliment, though, since he hadn't really given me any compliments lately; well, we really didn't talk enough for that. I'm proud of myself, but my father is proud of me for different reasons. _Why can't he be proud of me for the reasons I want? Why can't he be proud of me?_

"I wish your mom could've been there, I mean, alive." I always wish that my mother was with me: that the cancer hadn't taken over her whole body and, eventually, her life. I was always able to relate to her in ways my dad never could, like how she just kissed me and agreed when I told her I didn't want to date girls because of cooties when I was five. Dad always _tried _to be close, but usually left confused as to why his son preferred to play princess instead of football. _How will he take the explanation? Can he handle this?_

He turns his back to leave. This is it, I have to do this. I have to say the words that will make or break my life as I know it. "Dad," I say with fear evident in my voice, making him turn," I have something I want to say." I stand up to emphasize the importance since this is not something you say sitting and facing away. It's more than a need than a want. I don't want to have to say it out loud. I wish he just knew, like Mom would've, but he doesn't, so I have to tell him._ Can I do this? Can I reveal the most intimate detail of my personality from it's safe hiding place?_

He's looking at me right in the eye, and I'm frozen like a deer in headlights, eyes wide, choosing my next words carefully. "I'm glad that you're proud of me (well the other guy I add mentally), but I don't want to lie anymore." I say this slowly, hesitantly. 16 years is a very long time to lie to anyone, family, friends, yourself, especially about something like this. Well, I'd only been lying to myself for about 12 years, but I kept living in the lie for 16, stopping today. _Am I brave enough to come out of hiding? Am I strong enough to admit the truth?_

"Being a part of the glee club and football has really showed me that I can be anything," By doing both, I realized that I can be both the stereotypical showtune singing gay fashionista and the MVP of a high school football game. Though I didn't like football, having my hair being messed up, having to stare at my feet in the locker room, constantly being around my tormenters, it was an enlightening experience. I truly am confident that I can be anything, but I'm not sure that Dad will approve. _Will he still love who I really am? Will he understand and accept me for me?_

"And what I am, is...," I'm drawing out my words and the spaces between them to avoid saying the vital two words that are awaiting at the end. My heartbeat is racing, and I'm taking deep breaths. I'm terrified. To some, they would be confused as to why it's so hard, why I'm shaking slightly, why my eyes are wet right now. It's excruciating to do, to have to risk love, housing, and family by just saying two words. The way he's looking at me isn't helping my state either. He's staring at me, managing to furrow and raise his eyebrows at the same time. I feel like The Little Engine that Could, repeating "I can do this, I can do this" over and over in my head, but what if I can't? I'm already a past the point of no return. _Can I do this? Am I ready?_

I take a deep, shaky breath before saying the most important sentence of my life so far. Two words put together that are as powerful as a novel. 5 letters that can change a life. "I'm gay." I'm looking directly in his eyes, trying to read his reaction. His expression has softened a bit and he is slightly nodding. "I know." _What?_ I just went through so much emotional anguish to realize that he'd known all along. Though my insides are screaming, I just respond in a tiny voice ,"Really?" It was more of a statement than a question. _Why didn't he save me from the guilt and pain that comes out of hiding this for years? Why didn't he just tell me?_

"I've known since you were three." That long? I mean, looking back, mom probably told him about the cooties thing, but that was when I was five. That was when I first noticed that I was different, but three? I just stood there looking like he was speaking a foreign language. _Was I really that obvious? Was all of this necessary?_

Noticing my cluelessness, he gave the reason: " All you wanted for your birthday was a pair of sensible heels." Oh, I'd forgotten about that. I'd told them very seriously that that was all that I wanted, a pair of heels. Mom had smiled, laughed, and given me a kiss. At the time, I was confused as to why Dad had furrowed his eyebrows and left. The memory makes me smile, but it doesn't reach my eyes. _Why was I so oblivious then? Why couldn't I understand?_

"I guess I'm not totally in love with the idea," My heartbeat falters for a little bit, feeling slightly ashamed. Now I knew that Dad wouldn't be all happy and rainbow flowers about it; I'm not stupid. He's a _Deadliest Catch_ watching, car fixing, conservative sports Dad like a lot of the fathers here. But his tone is soft, his words gentle and reassuring. _Is he just downplaying it for my sake?Does he really accept me?_

"But if that's who you are, there's nothing I can do about it." His words make me wonder if it's a good thing or a bad thing. He's being so much more accepting than I'd ever dreamed. It doesn't seem like a full acceptance, but he isn't mad about it. A partial acceptance is relieving, though. _But am I interpreting this right? Do his words really mean acceptance?_

"And I love you just as much." My eyes start to well up with tears, my composure breaking. Without even thinking about it, I lunge forward, wrapping my arms around Daddy. He returns the hug, holding me tightly. He loves me. He's not only accepting, but he still loves me. _How did this happen? How did this situation turn out so perfectly?_

We are just standing here, Daddy rubbing gentle little circles in my back. I feel like a little kid right now, small and vulnerable enveloped in my daddy's arms, face in his chest. But I am just so happy and thankful right now; the only thing crossing my mind is,"He loves me; he loves me.". When my breathing gets ragged and tears threaten to fall, he whispers so softly that it's almost inaudiblle,"Shhh, shh." I pull away and look at him in the eyes, blinking back tears from my own. I take a deep breath to fix my composure. _Does he think I'm overreacting? Does he understand my feelings right now?_

"Thanks for telling me, Kurt," he says in a low voice. I nod my head a little bit, looking away. I guess he didn't need me to tell him, but didn't want to pressure me or he wanted me to say it. He wasn't trying to do anything, but he just was unsure of how to handle the situation. _Was that the right thing to do? Was he doing it for my sake?_

He walks away as I go back to the vanity. It's funny how much has changed since I sat here fewer than 5 minutes ago. Just moments before, my relationship with my dad was rocky, both of us having secrets. Now, everything is out in the open, our emotions and words honest. He stops in front of the stairs on his way out and I see him rub his temples in the mirror before saying, "You're sure about this, right?" The question seems stupid at first, but I understand where it comes from. There is still a small shred of hope that this isn't real, that I'm not what I am, and I do understand. "Yeah, Dad, I'm sure," I respond, a harmless answer. With that he leaves me sitting alone at my vanity, where it all started._ Did that really just happen? Did things turn out better with my dad then they have been for years?_

_Who is that girl I see, staring straight, back at me. Why doesn't my reflection show who I am inside._

I look into the mirror and all my questions are answered. This is really Kurt Hummel, a singing, dancing, gay, fashionable countertenor. I am where I belong: singing into a hairbrush while doing my nightly moisturizing ritual. I'm not living to anyone's expectations but my own. I don't have to be on the football team anymore, I'm not lying to my dad.

Those were the most important answers, the ones involving Dad. All the worrying had gone away when I told the truth, only leaving the pure joy and gratefulness that flooded me with his answers. He accepts me; even more so, he still loves me. He is proud of _me_.

Reviews/Critiques/Comments are love!


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